


The Black Cat

by psychosomatic86



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Animal Abuse, Demonic Possession, Horror, I can assure you, Khoshekh is tough, M/M, The Black Cat by Edgar Allan Poe, Violence, but it's not that bad!, edgar allan poe - Freeform, kinda like Tom Riddle's diary, so please don't call PETA, that sort of possession
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-12
Updated: 2014-10-12
Packaged: 2018-02-20 22:05:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2444810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychosomatic86/pseuds/psychosomatic86
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carlos would love for Cecil to read Poe to him just one more time, but the risks are much greater than he originally perceived.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Black Cat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hobbit_hedgehog](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hobbit_hedgehog/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Buried Alive](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2430950) by [hobbit_hedgehog](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hobbit_hedgehog/pseuds/hobbit_hedgehog). 



Memories of the nightmare had begun to fade mere hours after the incident, and in a week’s time, Carlos could barely recall the horrors of the dream. There would be the occasional image of crushing blackness and the sensation of desperate palms against confining wood, but these no longer caused a panicking fear to well in his stomach.

He had even begun toying with the notion of having Cecil read just one more of Poe’s works to him. After all, his rich voice had touched with such elegant inflections on all the lines that needed emphasis, or a growl, or a whisper, and Carlos longed to hear those dark syllables uttered in silky perfection, _just once more_.

***

“Are you sure?” Cecil noted him with caution, an eyebrow arched, head cocked slightly, sincere query evident in his tone. He was still wary after what had happened but Carlos seemed to have completely shrugged it off.

“Yes-yes, of course.” Carlos nodded vehemently, placing a reassuring hand on his lover’s as he restrained himself from downright begging because, oh, how he _ached_ for that sonorous voice to immerse his senses in black words and concepts!

“Yes.” He repeated, a little more firmly and a little more grounded. Breaking down like an addict about get a hit after so much time sober would certainly concern Cecil, and there would likely be no reading after such a scene.

“ _Well_...” The word was drawn out and Carlos could see the conflicting contemplations on the radio host’s face. Still, he curbed himself from screaming in anticipation.

Cecil sighed, “Are you one hundred percent sure you’re going to be alright?”

“Yes!” Carlos replied, a little exasperated and sick of hearing only himself say the word. “For the love of gods, Cecil, I’m fine, I _will be_ fine, won’t you please just indulge me for a while?”

Cecil looked at the begging puppy face Carlos had put on and smiled. “Alright alright,” he held up defeated hands, “fine.”

Carlos almost jumped with glee.

“But,” Cecil wagged a finger at the scientist as they settled onto the couch, “if I notice anything weird, I’m going to stop, even if I’m in the middle of a sentence.”

Carlos laughed inwardly. The chances of Cecil claiming something as “weird” in Night Vale were as high as the placebo effect curing Ebola. But he didn’t say this, and instead nodded as they cuddled closely, the dog-eared copy of _The Complete Works of Edgar Allan Poe_ resting on the side table. Cecil picked it up and flipped through the pages.

“I have one more condition.” He said sternly as he put an arm around the scientist, “ _I_ get to pick the poem.”

“Or story.” Carlos interjected in the hopes he would choose one of the more sinister ones, his morbid curiosity knowing no bounds.

Cecil gave him a look and Carlos giggled, though inside, he was secretly screaming for Cecil to read already. At this point he didn’t even care what he chose, he just wanted to hear the words and the voice mixing together in perfectly dreadful alliance.

“Okay, let’s see…” Cecil scanned the table of contents and Carlos waited in anticipation as he watched the lazy finger sliding down the page.

“Hm, this looks interesting.”

“Which one?”

“This one.” Cecil showed him the title his finger had come to rest upon, _The Black Cat._ “Is it any good?”

Carlos squirmed excitedly, “Yes, oh my goodness, you have to read that one!”

“Okay, but what’s it about?”

“Just read, I think you’ll like it.”

“Oh, okay.”

Cecil settled comfortably into the cushions, Carlos’ head now on his shoulder, both hands holding the book for a better grip, and began to read.

_For the most wild, yet most homely narrative which I am about to pen, I neither expect nor solicit belief. Mad indeed would I be to expect it, in a case where my very senses reject their own evidence. Yet, mad am I not -- and very surely do I not dream. But to-morrow I die, and to-day I would unburthen my soul._

His voice lilted over the words, weaving dark foreboding from the first passage with just the right inflections only to jump a key upward at the next paragraph, changing perfectly with the tone of the writing.

Carlos closed his eyes and let the words wash over him, allowing his mind’s eye to paint pictures with the lulls of the radio host’s voice, and he became so engrossed in creating his mental landscape that he hardly noticed when Khoshekh decided to join them.

It was when Cecil started on the descriptions of the narrator’s affections for Pluto - _this was the cat's name -- was my favorite pet and playmate. I alone fed him, and he attended me wherever I went about the house. It was even with difficulty that I could prevent him from following me through the streets._ \- that Carlos finally noticed the feline curled and purring in his lap.

Now, at any other time, he would have pushed the cat away, for fear of a sneezing attack as well as the fact that the two had never really struck up much of a bond. He had not taken to the cat so much as tolerated him for Cecil’s sake and the creature had eagerly returned the sentiments.

But now, out of the blue, they were suddenly sharing in a pleasant affection for each other.

However, he found that, oddly enough, he was enjoying the attention from the cat and continued listening to Cecil’s lovely voice, tracing a finger along Khoshekh’s jaw who purred louder in response and began to knead lightly with his forepaws.

Carlos smiled and his hands stroked the cat, lovingly, as he listened.

_Our friendship lasted, in this manner, for several years, during which my general temperament and character -- through the instrumentality of the Fiend Intemperance -- had (I blush to confess it) experienced a radical alteration for the worse._

Carlos shifted a little at these words, Khoshekh’s purring suddenly grating ever so slightly on his nerves, but shrugged it off.

_I grew, day by day, more moody, more irritable, more regardless of the feelings of others. I suffered myself to use intemperate language to my wife. At length, I even offered her personal violence. My pets, of course, were made to feel the change in my disposition. I not only neglected, but ill-used them._

Carlos stopped petting Khoshekh, the endearing purrs having now become guttural growls in his ears, and the affectionate nips into his leg from needle like claws became biting stings.

_For Pluto, however, I still retained sufficient regard to restrain me from maltreating him, as I made no scruple of maltreating the rabbits, the monkey, or even the dog, when by accident, or through affection, they came in my way._

Khoshekh made to leave but Carlos held him down in his lap, a stifled meow of displeasure inaudible to Cecil who kept reading, though agitation at the dark turn of the text was clear on his face.

_But my disease grew upon me -- for what disease is like Alcohol! -- and at length even Pluto, who was now becoming old, and consequently somewhat peevish -- even Pluto began to experience the effects of my ill temper._

The hatred in Carlos’ chest grew and grew as Cecil continued until he felt that he surely wanted to throw the cat across the room.

“Um, Carlos?”

The scientist turned his attention to Cecil who was regarding him with questioning concern, his finger stopped on a line that Carlos knew all too well.

“D-do I have to finish this?”

At any other time, Carlos would have noticed the uncomfortable expression on his face and let him go no further, but something deep down clawed at his chest and hissed in his mind, aching for the horrid sentences to be read.

“ _Yes_.” He said firmly, staring Cecil dead in the eye, his hands clutching tight to Khoshekh who had, again, tried to slink away.

The radio host noted something uneasy in his look and the way he held so tightly to Khoshekh, but he dared not defy the stony glare of the scientist. His voice quavered slightly as he read, but the tones still hit Carlos hard and his grip on the feline in his lap tightened with the narrator’s.

_The fury of a demon instantly possessed me. I knew myself no longer. My original soul seemed, at once, to take its flight from my body; and a more than fiendish malevolence, gin-nurtured, thrilled every fibre of my frame. I took from my waistcoat-pocket a pen-knife, opened it, grasped the poor beast by the throat, and deliberately cut one of its eyes from the socket! CARLOS!!_

The scientist started as Khoshekh was suddenly torn from his hands, the wild loathing in his mind still clouded reality and he glowered at Cecil.

_“Give him back.”_

The radio host held tightly to the feline, tiny mewls whimpering from the poor beast.

“Carlos, stop!” Cecil jumped from the couch as the scientist made an advance for him. “You do not hate Khoshekh! You love him! Remember? You love him!”

Carlos stood, a look of calm insanity on his darkened features. _“Yes, I do love him,”_ his voice dripped with scorn and harmful intention.

The radio host began to back away slowly and Carlos followed, holding his arms out in a mocking embrace.

 _“I love both of you, so very, very much.”_ A shark toothed grin played across his face, his head cocked to give him an air of pure lunacy. _“And that is why I must **kill** you.”_

He sprang forward and Cecil yelped as he was thrown to the floor, Khoshekh flying from his arms.

Carlos went for him first, grabbing the cat by his tail that elicited a sharp yowl followed by desperate clawing trying to relieve the painful grasp.

Cecil struggled to get up, but Carlos pinned him down with his knee, his free hand holding tight to the radio host’s wrists while the other battled with Khoshekh.

“CARLOS STOP! THIS ISN’T YOU!”

Carlos released his grip on Cecil’s wrists for a moment only to lift his head and bash it onto the floor. The radio host’s limbs immediately went slack and his head lolled sideways, eyes dazed and unseeing. He was still breathing and Carlos decided to deal with that after he had taken care of Khoshekh.

He grabbed the struggling feline by his neck and lifted him up as he hissed and spit, flailing wildly in the scientist’s cruel hold.

 _“Now I know you’ve already lost one eye, **dear Khoshekh.”**_ Carlos sneered as he carried the helpless cat to the kitchen. _“But I don’t feel that you **deserve** the other one.”_

He rummaged around in a drawer before removing a thin steak knife, admiring the way it glinted the light off of its sharp edge. He chuckled as he saw recognition on Khoshekh’s face and brought the blade to hover just over his cornea.

 _“Don’t worry, darling,”_ he cooed, _“this won’t hurt a bit.”_

He was just about to plunge the blade in when his whole body suddenly lurched forward and he lost his hold on the cat and the knife. He swore loudly as they feline tore away and he made to follow after only to be thrown down by some unseen force.

He tried to stand, but his legs buckled underneath him and his arms splayed out, and not of their own decision to do so.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS-?”

But he cut himself off when a piercing scream suddenly tore from his throat. His chest burned and seared as though his innards were engulfed in flame and his mind exploded with vicious colors as he convulsed violently on the floor. He screamed and screamed, the fiery pain ripping through his body, feeling as though his very soul was being torn.

He wailing continued until his vocal chords were ragged and shredded, and he could do nothing but shake and jerk about as though he were possessed.

But, as suddenly as the seizures had come, they stopped and Carlos lay, panting and weak on the floor, unable to move or speak or think or do anything but wait on the cold floor.

***

He awoke to find himself safely in bed, blankets tucked warmly to his chin and a pounding ache pulsing in every fiber of his body. Cecil was sitting in the armchair by their bed looking as though he had not slept at all.

 _“Ohhhh, what happened last night?”_ Carlos groaned and shut his eyes, the morning light a bit too painful on his retinas as the moment.

“This.” Carlos opened them again to see Cecil holding up a shredded book, “is what happened.”

Carlos quickly recognized it as his copy of _The Complete Works of Edgar Allan Poe_ and was about to yell at Cecil for destroying his book when the memories of last night suddenly flooded back to him.

“Oh my gods- _Cecil_ …” Carlo started, tears forming in his eyes as his hideous actions became all too clear to him. “I’m-I’m so sorry. Cecil I-” but the radio host cut him off. “It’s not your fault, this was a very dangerous book and I should have recognised the manifestation the first time I read to you.”

_“Manifestation?”_

Cecil nodded solemnly. “Yes, you were being possessed, the demon in this book was much stronger than most but also much more clever. It’s my own fault this happened, Carlos.”

_“A demon?”_

Cecil nodded again and Carlos sank his pounding head back into the pillow.

“We were both very lucky I was able to destroy this.” He motioned to the book again. “And-”

“What about Khoshekh?” Carlos interrupted, his heart beating fast at the remembrance of what he had almost done to the poor cat.

Cecil’s face fell, “he’s fine, physically, but mentally, he’s probably going to be uneasy for a while.”

“Oh, gods, Cecil. I-I’m so so sorry.”

Carlos buried his face in his hands as the tears came and Cecil joined him on the bed, cradling him as he wept. He’d never seen someone so traumatized my demonic possession before and it was very upsetting to see Carlos so terribly affected by it.

“Just promise me one thing, Carlos.” Cecil said when the scientist had finally calmed.

“Y-yes, of course anything, Cecil” Carlos wiped his blurry eyes, “ _anything_.”

Cecil gave a weak smile.

“Don’t ever ask me to read Poe again.”

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo, yeah, this, uh, this is a thing... that I wrote... and I felt horrible while doing so but had to because... I JUST HAD TO.
> 
> Hope you liked it or maybe liked it enough to hate me for it. But, anywho, if you did, leave a comment and let me know what you think!!
> 
> Also, you seriously need to check out hobbit_hedgehog's fic this was based off of. It's pretty darn excellent. :)


End file.
